( it had been a kneejerk reaction. something maybe some part of him had wished he'd done for his parents. he was only a child, there was nothing he could have done, he's heard it plenty of times from alfred. but that doesn't make one stop thinking about what they could have or should have done. even if it made no sense. even if it would have been stupid. those thoughts never really go away. not when you're carrying the sort of trauma and survivors guilt bruce carries.
again, there's a sharp look from bruce at jason and rather than give an answer with his own words, he knocks his shoulder roughly against jason's. moves past him. guess that means he'll handle it himself.
like a creature of the night, he stalks towards his prey. steps heavy, shadows stretching behind him. the guy is reaching for his gun β for another shot to take and bruce moves with a swiftness, cape flowing behind as he does. he's angry, he's bruised, and he's fed up with being shot at tonight. or at having one of his shot at.
before another shot can be taken, he barrels into the guy, knocking him back, and they both fall into a pool of black ink β a shadow β that appears behind, disappearing within it. the slick looking shadow disappearing as well.
shadows are what bruce and jason are capable of moving through, so it's not a jarring sight to see. even if that particular shadow did look a little different than usual.
one, two, three, four... five seconds tick by before the guy falls out of another shadowy pool a few feet away. as before, the shadow disappearing. or maybe closing. like a door. bruce nowhere to be seen.
he's coughing, stumbling about for a second before he's reaching for his gun and pointing it at jason. hand a little shaky, but he gives a laugh. throws jason a he's dead. killed that sonuva bitch and you're next! before a shaky hand shoots at jason. )
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again, there's a sharp look from bruce at jason and rather than give an answer with his own words, he knocks his shoulder roughly against jason's. moves past him. guess that means he'll handle it himself.
like a creature of the night, he stalks towards his prey. steps heavy, shadows stretching behind him. the guy is reaching for his gun β for another shot to take and bruce moves with a swiftness, cape flowing behind as he does. he's angry, he's bruised, and he's fed up with being shot at tonight. or at having one of his shot at.
before another shot can be taken, he barrels into the guy, knocking him back, and they both fall into a pool of black ink β a shadow β that appears behind, disappearing within it. the slick looking shadow disappearing as well.
shadows are what bruce and jason are capable of moving through, so it's not a jarring sight to see. even if that particular shadow did look a little different than usual.
one, two, three, four... five seconds tick by before the guy falls out of another shadowy pool a few feet away. as before, the shadow disappearing. or maybe closing. like a door. bruce nowhere to be seen.
he's coughing, stumbling about for a second before he's reaching for his gun and pointing it at jason. hand a little shaky, but he gives a laugh. throws jason a he's dead. killed that sonuva bitch and you're next! before a shaky hand shoots at jason. )